


Roses without thorns

by Pearlislove



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: But he loves Rosie Watson, Fluff and Angst, John is a Saint, M/M, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 22:31:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9790034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearlislove/pseuds/Pearlislove
Summary: Rosie Watson will never be like Eurus Holmes. Sherlock will do anything to assure that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno, but after watchign the latest Sherlock episode I just had this super strong vision of Sherlock fearing that Rosie will turn out like Eurus did, and being really protective and loving just to make sure she doesn't. Enjoy!

“Daddy! Dad!” The voice of little Rosie Watson echoes throughout the apartment, and it takes both the men located in the sitting room less than a moment to get on their feet, franatically rushing about, trying to find the little girl who called for them.

 

Finally, they find her on the kitchen floor, a pair of scissors in one hand and blood smeared all over the other. There are tears in her eyes, and John almost thought his heart would break seeing her sitting there.

 

“Dad, Daddy, I cut myself!” She complains, seeing the two men coming for her. She wanted her dad Sherlock and her daddy Joh nto comfort her. The moment the words passed her lips, however, it's as if time stopped. Sherlock comes to a stop just short of the kitchen table, half a meter away from the girl, and subconsciously, John stops right behind him.

 

For a moment, just they stand there.

 

Sherlock’s eyes are fixated on the bloody hand, on the red droplets smeared over the milky white skin of the little girl.

 

John us watching both his daughter and Sherlock with concern, worried that neither of them was alright. The cut on Rosie’s hand was probably worse than it looked, and Sherlock usually made it by, but yet, John couldn’t help the fear settling in his guts.

 

“It hurts!” The little girl shout, again, complaining about the pain of her wound, and suddenly it as if though the world has started moving again.

 

Sherlock is still standing in the same spot, unmoving, but John can hear him exhaling a long breath which he’d been holding. Wasting no more time, John sweeps passed him and pick up his daughter from the floor, placing her on one arm as he picked up the bloodied scissors with the other and threw them in the sink.

 

“Don’t worry, honey, we’ll fix it.” He tells the little girl, before turning his attention back to Sherlock. “I’m just going to go get her patched up, okay?” He tells him, monitoring him for a response.

 

Slowly, Sherlock nods. He doesn’t say anything, but he nods, and for John that is good enough.

 

Not looking back, he runs off to the bathroom, putting the girl on the toilet and cleaning her hand. She shouts when he uses the antiseptic, but otherwise she behaves, and he is happy to see that it is indeed less serious than it looks. Quickly, he put on a band-aid and send her to her room.

 

“Why don't you go play with your dolls?” He suggests, letting the girl run off and returning to the kitchen.

 

Sherlock is still in the same spot where he left him, staring at the bloodied scissors in the sink.

 

John knows what he’s thinking about. It Eurus, of course it's Eurus, with things such as these it was always Eurus. Sometimes John just wished Sherlock could forget, though at the same time he had seen where it had taken them and had not like the results. Not in the slightest.

 

Five people had payed with their lives before Sherlock could remember everything and though he never said anything John knew it was one of Sherlock’s biggest psychological problems to date

 

“Sherlock?” He asks, carefully, his hand coming to rest on his arm. He can hear him let out another huff of breath, and realize that Sherlock’s habit of unconsciously holding his breath might turn dangerous one day. He try to push it aside. “You alright?”

 

“She said it hurt. It was painful.” Sherlock says it slowly, purposefully, reminding himself of the meaning of those words. He smiled, but it wasn't really a happy smile.

 

John nodded. “It usually does, when you hurt yourself.” He supplied helpfully, watching Sherlock closely and still not letting go of his arms. He’d anticipated this, had seen it coming from so far away, and yet he was as helpless as ever as Sherlock slowly blinked and turned to look at him.

 

There's worry and sadness, so deep and painful, hidden in his eyes where only John could see it. “Eurus didn’t. Eurus killed people, and she didn’t feel it.” He lay it out like facts, that doesn't quite fit together, puzzle pieces from different puzzles. He, the man who always claimed to feel nothing could never quite seem to understand how you could literally feel nothing. “She was so _empty_ . Even when she was still so _tiny_.”

 

“But Rosie ain't Eurus. No one else is or will ever be Eurus, and no one will ever hurt you like Eurus.” John assures him, using what little power he has to comfort as he drew Sherlock in for a hug, happy when he didn’t complain too much. “I promise.”

 

They stand there for a moment, hugging and happening, before being interrupted by a very familiar voice .

 

“Dad! Daddy! Come play with me!” Rosie is dragging her three favourite dolls with her as she come back, bored of playing on her own, offering two of them to him and Sherlock. “Pleeeeaaaase?” She pouts, so cute and convincing when she wanted to, and John can hear Sherlock laughing.

 

“Of course we will!” He says, smiling and grabbing his doll as he motions for John to do the same, soon engaging her in some made up game with their dolls. Suddenly, the sadness is blown away, replaced with love and admiration for John’s little girl.

 

For their little girl.

 

John smiled, walking over to join them in their game. as he approach them, though, he can feel his thoughts drifting back to Eurus. Sherlock’s sister, who truly didn’t understand emotion. All Holme’s claimed they didn’t, of course, but she really didn’t know how it felt to feel things. But, he couldn’t help but wonder,  if she saw her little brother now, what would she think? At these moments, when her tall, proud little brother was overcome with all the pain that she’d caused him. Would she understand then? Would she understand, if she saw the way he played with Rosie, caring so much and giving her so much time and attention, just to make sure she never became anything even close to what Eurus was.

 

John hoped she would, he hoped with all of his heart, because when he looked at her, _he_ understood.

  
  
  
  



End file.
